


The Secret Ingredient

by Bakuzan_Sickle_Claw



Category: SpongeBob SquarePants (Cartoon)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Dark, Dark Fic Fest, Gen, Gore, Grimdark, Horror, I am one fucked-up individual, Machines, Original Character Death(s), Spongebob horror, crabs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-04
Updated: 2014-12-04
Packaged: 2018-02-28 03:31:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2717294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bakuzan_Sickle_Claw/pseuds/Bakuzan_Sickle_Claw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spongebob is getting ready to inherit the Krusty Krab, but before he can, he has to learn the truth about the Krabby Patty Secret Ingredient. Darkfic, gore, blood, just death and darkness all over the damn place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First

Author’s note: I don’t own these characters or this franchise. I do own this story. If you aren’t already familiar with the Spongebob Radiation Theory, read up on it (http://www.cracked.com/article_19882_6-insane-but-convincing-fan-theories-about-kids-cartoons.html); this story uses it as a plot point. 

I wrote this a few years ago, when I was a freshman and I thought I was edgy. I tried to polish it up, but I apologize if it sucks anyway. Enjoy.

///

Eugene lay under the rubble pile, groaning. More things were changing, he supposed; he felt the pain in his claws now, it seemed to have moved down from his eyes, and from his throat. The throat pain had been the worst, because it had meant he couldn’t talk, or even groan to express the unending agony within his body. He couldn’t talk before the throat pain came, anyway. There was no one around to talk to.

Mother was still alive. He knew it because of the sobbing sounds that echoed through what was left of the house. Mother didn’t cry often before the explosion. She cried constantly now, and he knew it was her because the sobs were deeper, too deep to be Anastasia’s. Those sobs, Eugene thought—he had a lot of time to think now—might be because Anastasia was gone, or because Father was, or both. Perhaps it was the pain; perhaps the same things were happening to her.

The pain ceased for a moment. That was a blessing and a curse both; the relief was welcome, but it made the pain all the worse when it came back. Eugene slowly raised his eye, high on its extended stalk, to look through the gap in the rubble, at his open bedroom window. The sky still rained ashes. It had done so for two weeks.


	2. Chapter 1

\--One--

The crab girl still hadn’t left. She had been sitting at the same table for almost an hour, not even eating her sandwich, just staring out the window, watching the sun glow bright orange and sink and the stars begin to dot the sky. Technically, it was no problem for her to be there, as it wasn’t closing time quite yet, but it was almost nine, and this was a special night. The restaurant should have been empty already.

“She’s still there, Mr. Krabs.” Spongebob glanced behind him, at his employer, who had gotten up from the potato sack on the floor and was now standing with his claws on his hips. His eyes were narrowed, and he sighed, aggravated.

“Well, you’ll just have to get her out, then,” Mr. Krabs said. “Ain’t like she’s buyin’ anythin’. Tell her to leave, we’re closin’ down early tonight.”

“Closing early?” Squidward’s eager face popped up into the order window, already missing his white employee’s hat. Spongebob looked down and saw that he already had one tentacle outside the cashier’s desk, ready to run out at a second’s notice.

“Aye,” Mr. Krabs said, absentmindedly, walking across the kitchen to his office door. He turned and saw Squidward’s triumphant jump out of the small wooden boat, and shouted after him, “Take that girl in there with you! And turn the lights out! Do you hear me?” A moment later, Spongebob heard two sets of footsteps, one running and one scuttling, exit the building, followed by the doors swinging shut. Mr. Krabs disappeared into his office for a moment and returned holding a ring of different-sized keys, which he clipped to one of his belt loops as he walked out the kitchen door and through the deserted restaurant, with Spongebob following close behind. “All right,” he said, “ready to go, boy-o?”

“I’m ready!” Spongebob shouted. 

Mr. Krabs grinned. “That’s the spirit.” He reached up and flipped a light switch, making the building go instantly pitch-black. He pushed open the glass doors, scuttled through and then reached behind him, selected a small silver key and locked the doors. The two walked over to a red sign that said BUS STOP, and then stopped and waited. Mr. Krabs leaned against the sign and sighed heavily, while Spongebob stood beside him, bouncing up and down with excitement. “Can’t even stand upright for too long,” Mr. Krabs sighed. “It’s me legs, they get sore. You know I’m gettin’ old, right, Spongebob? Nearin’ seventy?”

Spongebob heard this type of complaint increasingly often from his boss, and knew exactly how to respond. “You don’t look a day over twenty, sir,” he said brightly.

Mr. Krabs gave a small laugh. “Ah, you know how to butter a crab up, boy,” he said. “Keep that, you’ll need it in business. People like to be flattered, you’ll make some nice money that way. You’re gonna inherit this place, Spongebob. I’ve told you that, right?”

He had in fact heard this before, two days ago, when Mr. Krabs had come back to the Krusty Krab from his doctor’s appointment. He’d called Spongebob into his office almost immediately, his face grim, and told him this same thing, as well as told him to stay late tonight. It was time to learn about the secret ingredient, he’d said. Spongebob needed to know eventually, he’d told him. Spongebob barely heard anything after this; he was already overjoyed at the prospect. He would own the restaurant he loved someday! He was finally going to learn the true secret of the Krabby Patty! He’d stayed awake all that night, trying to grasp the idea. He still could barely believe it.

“Yeah, Pearl doesn’t want anythin’ to do with me business when she’s older, and she’s the only kid I’ve got, so I’ll be dependent on you to be in charge after I can’t do it meself,” Mr. Krabs said, leaning further on the signpost. “You’re not my family, but you’ll do, and it goes without sayin’ that you’re a better choice than Squidward.” He closed his eyes. “I had a sister once, did I tell you that? Her name was Anastasia. Sweet little crab, she was, lived to be seven years old.”

There was a moment of silence, save for the distant chirping of a mollusk. Mr. Krabs was quiet and distant, and seemed to be lost in thought, so Spongebob stood awkwardly and watched the road for headlights. Finally, two lights, piercing the darkness on the road, appeared and grew larger and larger until the distinct red public bus pulled up in front of them, its doors swinging open and revealing more light. “Ah,” Mr. Krabs said, opening his eyes and standing up. “Here we go.” They climbed the steps, the doors swung shut, and the bus roared off into the night.


	3. Second

He could finally get up. The rubble was lighter than he remembered, and it didn’t take too much effort to push it off. The pain was gone now. He was different, much different, he could feel it, but there was no way to look at himself yet. Two things were immediately apparent, though—that he used two large claws to pick up bricks and to push them away, and that he walked out of his bedroom on two legs.

About half of the house was left. The rest was collapsed, no longer anything more than a pile of bricks and sand. He looked at the wreckage in wonder as he went from room to silent room, looking for Mother. The crying had ceased for now, about an hour ago. Finally, in the kitchen, carpeted with dust and debris, he found her. She was curled up on the floor, resting her head on a brick. He stood in the doorway for a moment, looking at her, before he softly called out. “Mother.”

Her eyes fluttered open, and she lifted her head, looked at him, and froze. She stared for a little while, both watching each other in silence, and then a tiny smile appeared on her worn face. She blinked, and her green eyes were moist. “Eugene,” she whispered.


	4. Chapter 2

\--Two--

They were almost alone on the bus. Not many people needed to go anywhere after nine o’ clock. One fish sat in the front of the bus, wearing a coat and tie, leaning up against his window, staring at the moving landscape, eyes blank. Spongebob and Mr. Krabs ignored him, and he them. They sat in the very back, on the left, talking in low whispers. This was secret business; they could not risk the driver and the other passenger hearing. 

“Mr. Krabs,” Spongebob said in his quietest voice possible. “I thought the secret ingredient was a pinch of King Neptune’s Poseidon Powder. I thought—” 

Krabs nodded. “It is. This is a different secret ingredient.”

Spongebob froze for a second. “But… Mr. Krabs. Don’t you—don’t you trust me? I thought I was your best employee, why wouldn’t you tell me…” Tears started to build in his eyes.

“Calm down, boy,” his boss told him. “Nobody but me has known there even is a second secret ingredient until today. But now you do, so I must trust ye, right? Now quit cryin’.”

“Okay,” Spongebob said, instantly perking up again.

“Now, what was I gonna say? Oh, yeah.You already know about how the secret ingredient gets delivered,” Mr. Krabs said, facing the window to avoid the risk of having his lips read. “You do it every three months or so, because that’s how often I order it. You make Krabby Patties, you know how quickly the stuff goes. But you need to order it at least two weeks in advance, before you need it. Takes a long time to prepare, that stuff. You need to make a batch one day every three months or so—they’re called processin’ days— and today’s one of ‘em.”

The bus pulled to a stop. “Pacific Boulevard,” the driver called out, and the fish in the front shuffled out, the door opening before him and closing behind him. The bus rumbled back to life and started back down the road. “Where are you boys heading?” the driver shouted from the front. He sounded exhausted.

“Just drop us off at the edge of the shoppin’ district,” Mr. Krabs called back.

“North or south end?”

“South,” Krabs answered. 

“Near all those factories? The abandoned ones?”

“Yeah, that’s the place.” There was silence for a moment. The bus took a sharp left turn. 

“Why go there, Mr. Krabs?” Spongebob asked. “I thought you were showing me where the…” he leaned in closer, “the thing… is made? Don’t you have your own factory?”

“Soon enough,” Mr. Krabs said, putting his claws behind his head and leaning back, “you’ll see. You’re gonna see a lot tonight, boy.”

“Do I get to help make some?” Spongebob asked as the thought struck him. “Can I help make the secret ingredient?” He sat up in his seat, excited at the idea.

Mr. Krabs laughed shortly. “No, you don’t, and I don’t think you’d want to. But you’ll get to see how it’s made, all right, the whole process. You’ll watch tonight, and supervise, like you will someday. One of these days, you’ll run the place, like I do.” He patted his fry cook on the back. “But watchin’s enough for tonight.”

The bus slowed down gradually and then coasted to a stop. Spongebob looked out the window and saw that they were on a completely darkened street, surrounded by huge factories. They were huge, hulking masses of rusted metal and bricks, dilapidated and falling apart, silent and ominous, and their windows reflected some of the light from the bus when the doors opened, making them look like square beasts with huge eyes, watching and waiting. Spongebob and Mr. Krabs made their way down the aisle, down the stairs and onto the firm gravel that served as ground here. “Hey, you boys watch out,” the driver called after them, seemingly as an afterthought. “It’s not too safe here after dark. There’s a lot of disappearances around here.”

“We’ll be all right,” Mr. Krabs told him, sounding somewhat amused. The bus driver shrugged, closed the doors and drove off, leaving them alone on the silent street. Mr. Krabs turned and started walking toward one of the old factories, and Spongebob tentatively followed. “This is where the magic happens,” he declared. “We make the secret recipe in that buildin’, right over there.” He pointed to the factory that was furthest away from the street and from the nearby shops, all of which were empty and closed for the night.

“But I thought that place was abandoned?” Spongebob inquired. “I thought all of these places were?”

“Not that one,” his employer said. “That one’s mine, it has been for twenty years, or somethin’ like that. Didn’t cost me a cent, either. It was just there, and it was empty, so I took it.”

“Wouldn’t it just be easier to build your own? Make it in the back of the Krusty Krab or something?”

“Oh, no, makin’ the ingredient is a complicated process. We need machinery, we need a big buildin’. And no one ever goes here, so no one could walk in and see how the ingredient’s made. Wouldn’t want people spyin’ on it.”

“Oh, that’s right. People like Plankton wouldn’t think to go here. That’s smart, Mr. Krabs.”

The crab grinned. “I did think of everythin’.”

“You wouldn’t want people seeing how you make the ingredient because then they’d go and make their own Krabby Patties, isn’t that right, sir?”

“Yeah, somethin’ like that.”

They finally reached the furthest building, and stood and stared at it for a moment. “This place sure is big,” Spongebob said. “And I don’t hear any noise or anything. You sure keep the place well-hidden.”

“I sure need to.” Mr. Krabs walked over to the doors, produced a big bronze key, and unlocked them. The double doors swung open slowly, creaking. Mr. Krabs gestured with his claw for Spongebob to go in first. “Go on in, and hurry. They’ll be startin’ soon.” They both walked quickly through the metal doors, into the factory.


	5. Third

Mother sighed, leaning her head against the bottom of the stove. Eugene closed the cabinet, holding up the last of their food, a sea cucumber. “No,” Mother said, looking up. “We can’t eat that. Could be radioactive.”

“Aren’t we radioactive, though?” Eugene asked. “Isn’t everything, now?”

“I think so,” Mother said, laying her head back down, “but we’re still alive. Let’s not take our chances.”

Eugene looked at the cucumber longingly as he put it back in the cabinet. It wasn’t fair, he was hungry, they hadn’t eaten in two weeks. If they didn’t eat that cucumber or one of the pieces of bread, soon they’d starve, and Mother wouldn’t let either of them eat any of those. Eugene had an idea, and he wasn’t looking forward to it, but if they were going to stay alive, it had to be done. Behind his back, he grabbed a kitchen knife from a drawer. “I’m going outside, Mother,” he said. “I’ll see if I can find something else to eat.”

“Be careful,” Mother said, raising her eyestalks to look at him.

“I will, I promise.” Slipping the knife into his pocket, he scuttled out through the hole in the kitchen wall, walking around the house to the destroyed part. The ashes had begun to die down, and only a few black flakes fell from the sky. He looked up as he walked, at the huge mass of land that was Bikini Atoll, and saw only blackened, burnt sand. He looked around, at the huge, isolated, empty space of land that was once his family’s farm; all of the crops in the fields, probably dead or mutated beyond use now, were hidden by clouds of ash. Finally, he reached the huge pile of rubble, and began to dig, until he saw something thick and red. He brushed the dirt and bricks away, and looked at his silent, unmoving sister. For a few minutes, he just stared, taking in the sight of the body. His sister looked like an ordinary crab, not like how Eugene and Mother looked. She had six small claws, her body was square, she had a tiny mouth. Eugene stopped looking, prayed a silent prayer for forgiveness, closed his eyes and took out the knife.


	6. Chapter 3

\--Three--

The silence ended as soon as the door opened. When it swung closed behind Spongebob and Mr. Krabs locked it, he couldn’t hear the door shutting over all the voices. He looked around and saw that he was standing on the second level of the building, on a walkway overlooking the factory and a group of six or seven crabs, huddled together on the ground floor, talking amongst themselves and glancing around fearfully. ‘That’s weird,’ Spongebob thought, staring at them; they didn’t seem to notice him or Mr. Krabs yet. ‘I thought this place was secret.’ He looked up from them and took in the interior of the factory. It was huge, much bigger than it looked from the outside. A few feet away from the walkway where he was standing, machinery was suspended from the ceiling, shiny devices that looked like giant claws and a complicated network of metal rails. On the far side of the building, attached to the wall, was a device that looked like a huge metal box with tubes leading out of it, into another metal box that opened up onto a conveyor belt. It was sparsely lit, with only orange beams shining from the floor, two illuminating the walkway. Mr. Krabs looked over the building, too, for a moment, and then turned to see Spongebob’s silent awe. He chuckled and said, “Impressive, ain’t it, boy?”

“Very,” he answered, and pointed to the floor, at the group of crabs, a few of whom looked up and pointed at the two of them. “Who are those? Your workers?”

“They do help make the secret ingredient,” he answered, laughing a little. As he said this, Spongebob looked next to the crowd and saw eight fish in blue vests, holding relatively big tasers, which were pointed at the crabs. The fish surrounded them, in a circle, and when one crab tried to step away from the huddle, the fish stepped in closer, restricting the crabs even more.

“What are those guys, police?” Spongebob asked, concerned. “Why do they have all those tasers? They could hurt someone.”

“Oh, no. Those are my personal guards, and they’re just there to keep things in order.” More of the crabs below had noticed Mr. Krabs’ presence, and had turned their heads to look up at them, some with defiance in their eyes, some looking fearful. Three of the guards looked up at Spongebob and stared at him for a moment before turning their attention back to the trapped crabs.

“I told the guards I was bringin’ you here today,” Mr. Krabs said. “They’re probably interested in seein’ their next boss. I don’t blame ‘em, they’ll be here for a while.”

“What do you mean?” Spongebob asked. Some of the guards below were glancing up at him and murmuring among themselves. “I think they’re scoping me out or something.”

“They’ll be workin’ for you in a few years, and they won’t be leavin’ for a long time,” Mr. Krabs said. “Once they start workin’ here, they can’t leave. I can’t have them quittin’ and spillin’ the secret to the world. And don’t worry, they’re just checkin’ you out. Sizin’ you up. I’m sure they’ll like you. Maybe you can meet ‘em after they’re done workin’ for the night.” He sighed. “All right. Time to talk to the arrivals. Listen closely, Spongebob, you’re gonna have to give this talk often. There’s a certain way to break it to ‘em, you can’t freak ‘em out, you know.” 

He cleared his throat, and then turned to face the crowd, shouting, his voice echoing through the building. “Welcome, crabs.” Everyone on the ground floor looked up at him. “We apologize for the inconvenience you had in gettin’ here. My guards can be a bit rough.” One guard stepped closer to the crowd and raised his taser threateningly. “As you may have figured out, this factory is not abandoned. This is the Krabs Enterprises Ingredient Processin’ Center. Here is where we manufacture the secret ingredient found in Krabby Patties, which I’m sure all of you have enjoyed. The only people who don’t like Krabby Patties have never tried ‘em, ain’t that right?” He elbowed Spongebob, who nodded, keeping his eyes on the floor. 

“Well, today you’re lucky. You get to play a special role in the makin’ of a Krabby Patty. Not bakin’, not assemblin’, but creatin’ the essential secret ingredient. In fact, soon you’ll all learn what the secret ingredient is. Aren’t you a lucky bunch? The only other person in the ocean who will ever know what you’re about to learn is my successor, here, Spongebob.” He gestured at Spongebob, who nervously smiled and waved. “Now, let’s start the processin’. I’ll need a volunteer. Who wants to be the first to learn the secret ingredient?”

“I want to go home!” yelled a female crab from the ground. Spongebob squinted to get a closer look at the one who had yelled, and saw that it was the girl from the restaurant earlier. “Please, let me leave! I haven’t done anything wrong!”

Mr. Krabs laughed, a short, echoing bark. “Eager, eh? All right, you get to go first. Hook her up, boys.” Two guards stepped forward and grabbed her claws, and dragged her across the room, indifferent to her shouts and how much she struggled. “Charlotte!” a female voice shouted from the crowd of crabs. “Charlotte, no!” The two fish ignored the sound and dragged Charlotte across the factory floor until they reached the far wall, where two long metal poles were hanging from the ceiling, each with a metal loop on the end. The fish pushed Charlotte’s claws up and forced them through the metal loops. They both stood back and walked over to a control panel. One of them pulled a lever, and the two poles slowly rose into the air, taking Charlotte with them, until she was suspended far above the ground, just a few feet away from Spongebob.

“Watch closely,” Mr. Krabs said. “The machinery is mostly automated, but you have to know how it works anyway, in case anythin’ goes wrong.” Spongebob watched the female crab intently, hundreds of questions forming in his mind. ‘What’s he doing with that girl? I thought those crabs were temporary workers or something? I guess I’ll see,’ he thought as the next machine descended.

From the ceiling, a metal arm with a long, needle-like point came down from the ceiling and stopped a few inches from Charlotte’s face, pointing at her. She whimpered in fear for a second, and then a thin red beam shone out from the tip of the needle and slowly moved down her forehead and along the center of her body. Charlotte’s eyes followed the beam curiously, her brow furrowed as if the light stung her. The metal arm retracted and folded back up, and after a moment, Charlotte’s red shell fell off, cut evenly in half. It hit the floor and shattered, and immediately another guard kicked the fragments away. Charlotte looked much different now, her flesh soft, pink and a little moist. She looked at herself in horror for a moment, and then looked up at a claw-like device coming towards her.

“This next one,” Mr. Krabs said, “we like to call Slasher. Sort of a nickname.” Four-pronged and thin, the metal claw looked like a skill crane from an arcade, only sharper and rusted at the tips. It was open at first, but when it was an inch or so away from Charlotte, it contracted, making itself into a single sharp point. It paused, and the crab screamed, a second before it plunged into her abdomen. 

“Mr. Krabs, what is it doing?” Spongebob shouted in horror. 

“Just keep watchin’.”

Once it had jabbed into her sensitive body, the claw opened up again, tearing her skin, revealing dark-red organs and making blood gush from the wound. As the device pulled back, reached in and swiftly pulled out her still-beating heart, causing thick red blood to spurt everywhere and fall to the floor, Charlotte screamed, some of the crabs below screeched, and a few people vomited, Spongebob included. Three tried to bolt for the door, but the remaining guards formed a wall and herded them back into the cluster. Spongebob looked away and covered his eyes, trying to ignore the screaming and the mechanical sounds, his brain reeling, until the high-pitched wails finally stopped, and all that was left was a swift slashing sound, followed by a sickening splatter. “It’s done,” he heard Mr. Krabs say, sounding a bit irritated, and he peeked back up at the machines. 

What was left of the crab, a soft pink lump of hollow flesh without eyes or claws, was being lowered into the giant metal box-like device, dripping with blood. It roared to life once the body was in it, making loud grinding noises and then a noise that sounded like a blow dryer, and then it went silent. A banging sound went through the metal tube that led out of it, a smooth whirr came from the box in front of the conveyor belt, and a small bottle emerged, rolling down the line. It stopped at the end, and when Spongebob squinted to look at it, he recognized it immediately. A medium-sized blue bottle, corked and filled with thick red matter. It was the secret ingredient to the Krabby Patty Formula—no, it wasn’t, it wasn’t at all. That wasn’t a secret ingredient bottle. That was a container exactly like the one their imitation crabmeat came in. And the bottle was filled with crabmeat.

“It just needs to be tested for quality, and they’ll deliver it to us in a few days, along with the meat from the rest of ‘em,” Mr. Krabs said, but Spongebob could barely hear him over the ringing in his ears. His eyes bulged, and he staggered backwards and screamed.


	7. Fourth

Eugene opened the cabinet as slowly as he could. It creaked a little, but it didn’t wake Mother. Slowly, he pulled out the two slices of white bread, limp and beginning to turn musty yellow, and put the soggy, thick, deep red hunk of meat between them. He looked at it and sighed, thinking that it would have to do. He had the feeling that he ought to cook it first, but the stove was broken, probably from the radiation. He tiptoed over, put his claw on her shoulder and shook her gently. Her eyes opened, and lingered on his face for a moment before wandering to the sandwich in his claw. “What is that, Eugene?”

“A sandwich, Mother,” he said softly. “Some food. It’s for you.” It might be the only food left, but he felt he could sustain himself longer than she could, and besides, she had been crying again, refusing to talk for hours. He’d started to feel like he was the provider now. 

She picked up the sandwich and inspected it. “Where’d you get it?”

Eugene blinked away the image, behind his eyes, of his sister’s body, shell smashed, a chunk missing from the right side. “I made it. I cooked it for you.”

She smiled and leaned back against the stove. “Ah, you made it. Brought it right to me, like I’m eatin’ at a restaurant.”

“You are,” Eugene said, smiling gently. “You’re eatin’ at my restaurant, and that’s my Mystery Meat Special.”

“Well, it has to have a better name than that.” Mother held the sandwich up in the air. “It’s a patty, like a burger. A Krabs patty!”

Eugene flinched; the name sounded all too accurate. “Something catchier,” he suggested. “Like… Krabby. It’s a Krabby Patty.”

“Krabby Patty,” Mother said, nodding. She took a bite and chewed for a moment. Then she smiled. “This is good.”


	8. Chapter 4

\--Four--

“So now you know the secret,” Mr. Krabs said calmly, wiping drops of Charlotte’s blood from his face. “Anythin’ like you’d imagined?”

“What?” Spongebob screeched, backing up towards the door at the end of the walkway. “Of course I never imagined this! You killed that girl!”

“Now, calm down, Spongebob,” Mr. Krabs said, following him. “It’s just a fact of the business. It’s not that bad once you get used to it.”

“You killed that girl!” Spongebob kept shouting, his brain reeling. “You killed her, you killed her! And all those others, you’re going to kill them too! Mr. Krabs, you—why?!”

“I said calm down, boy.” Mr. Krabs reached the end of the walkway, where Spongebob was backed up against the doors, shaking the handle desperately. The metal doors stayed firmly shut. “They’re locked,” Mr. Krabs said disapprovingly. “You can’t get out, you’re not goin’ anywhere. Now stay here and listen to me. I’ll tell ‘em to stop production for a minute.” He leaned over the railing and shouted, “Stop for a minute! I’ve gotta talk to the kid.” Spongebob moved away from the door and gripped the railing, concentrating hard on not getting sick.

“All right, then,” Mr. Krabs said, facing his employee and folding his claws. “I’d hoped you’d overreact a little less, but I’ve never taken anyone to see this place before, so I guess I can’t blame you. Oh, who am I kiddin’, you cry about everythin’, what was I—Well, this must seem pretty cruel and gruesome, but I can assure you it’s completely essential.”

“Killing people… isn’t essential,” Spongebob gasped out in between heaves; he was vomiting over the railing again.

“Of course it is, because it’s the only way to make Krabby Patties, and Krabby Patties are essential. They’re the most popular food in the ocean, and anyway, don’t you know how many key ingredients in those sandwiches are highly addictive? People love Krabby Patties, and people buy them because they can’t stop eatin’ ‘em. If I stopped sellin’ them all of a sudden, cold turkey, what do you think we’d have on our claws? People would go crazy. They’d get withdrawal, they’d riot. Lives would be lost. I’d go out of business and go broke, and then I couldn’t take care of Pearl anymore. I need to do this,” he gestured toward the machines, “to keep that from happenin’. In the long run, don’t you think this is better?”

“Of course not!” Spongebob said, raising his head to face his employer again. “You’re killing innocent people, that’s not right, that’s never right! Even Krabby Patties aren’t worth running a factory to rip people apart!”

“I tried my best not to make it so bad,” Mr. Krabs explained. “Really, I’m not a sadist. This could be a lot worse. It’s not painful for too long, and it’s for the greater good. And I don’t scare ‘em. I just send out my guards to find crabs on processin’ days, and they find ‘em and bring ‘em here. Least they suspect is that they’re goin’ to the police station or somethin’, they’re not afraid until the last minute, and even then, they know they’re doin’ a great service to Bikini Bottom that only they can do. I do what I need to and nothin’ more. It’s not like I’m a monster.”

Spongebob looked over the other railing, at the panicking, visibly frightened crowd of crabs on the floor, and the guards shouting and pushing to keep them contained. This couldn’t be right, could it? He refused to believe that this, any of it, was justified. There was no way around the fact that the man he worked for was a cold-blooded murderer. And yet, in the back of his mind, he couldn’t help wondering if Mr. Krabs was making a bit of sense…

“And most important of all,” said Mr. Krabs, folding his claws behind his back and gazing down at the floor as well, “is the matter of me profits. Without Krabby Patties, how would I make money? Ideas like I had when I invented the Patty only come once, Spongebob. You need to grab ‘em and use ‘em as soon as they show up, or else someone’ll steal ‘em from you.”

“What are you saying?” Spongebob cried, a fresh wave of horror crashing over him. “Mr. Krabs, are you just doing this so you can make money?”

“When I think about it,” the crab sighed, “well, think about it Spongebob. Why did I start sellin’ Krabby Patties in the first place? I wanted to make money. And boy, have I ever. I can bathe in me money if I want to. And who wants more than that? Tons of money, from a steady source, usin’ free material, produced with cheap machinery. Well, the machines themselves were pretty expensive, but I cut out unnecessary costs. When I first built this factory, we’d bring the crabs in here and just release some poison gas on ‘em. No explainin’, no fear, just a quick and painless death. But poison gas is expensive in the quantity we had to buy it in, so we stopped usin’ it. Now they’re processed while they’re still alive, which isn’t exactly painless, but it saves money, and isn’t that what’s really important? ” He smiled. “You gotta admit, there’s nothin’ more important in the world than money. It’s what I love most, it’s all I’ve ever wanted, and this place gives me tons of it. It’s flawless, all of this. All I had to do was make a product that people wouldn’t be able to stop buyin’ and that I’d need to keep makin’ for a long, long time, and I did, and I’ve done nothin’ but profit from it. That’s the true secret to success. Now do you understand?” He leaned over the railing again and shouted, “Okay, boys, fire it up!” He leaned back up and put his claws on his hips. “You know, sometimes it’s not so bad when you imagine the machine’s pullin’ out dollar bills instead of--”

“That’s it!” Spongebob shouted. “Enough!” He climbed on top of the railing, standing precariously on the metal bars. Below him, the guards were dragging a male crab, wearing a suit and tie, over to the machines. He was kicking and struggling, to no avail. Spongebob bent his knees and focused on one spot in midair.

“Boy!” Mr. Krabs growled. “What do you think you’re doin’?”

“Something that should have been done a long time ago!” Spongebob shouted. As he was about to jump, Mr. Krabs grabbed hold of his ankles. He struggled hard, pulling his feet up, as the crab below was shackled to the two metal poles and was beginning his ascent. Finally, Mr. Krabs’ claws snapped together, severing Spongebob’s feet, and he fell, managing to leap a few feet forward. He aimed carefully, judging the machine’s vertical path, and sure enough, he managed to grab onto the two manacles. The crab yelped in surprise as the sponge reached under, working his hands through the manacles and getting the crab’s claws loose. The crab hung on for a second and then lost his grip, plummeting to the floor. As the bars rose a few more feet, Spongebob looked down and saw him land in the arms of two other crabs, who had managed to run from the guards to catch him. ‘Whew,’ Spongebob thought as the pointed mechanical arm descended from the ceiling and aimed at his forehead. Only then did he notice what he’d done. Through the process of freeing the crab, he’d gotten his own hands stuck in the metal rings and couldn’t jump down like he’d planned.

“Idiot!” Mr. Krabs shouted from the walkway a few feet away. “Spongebob, get down from there this instant! You’re gonna get yourself killed! Do you hear me?!”

The laser ran down the center of Spongebob’s body, and he felt a stinging sensation where the beam had been. After a moment, the arm retracted, and Spongebob’s body separated neatly into two halves. He didn’t feel any pain; he was quite accustomed to splitting his body. A layer of sponge quickly formed on the insides of the halves, so all of his organs stayed in place. 

“Get down from there!” Mr. Krabs screamed. “You moron! You’re screwin’ up production! Get back over here right now!”

The metal four-pronged claw descended from the ceiling, contracted and halted in front of Spongebob. He used the pause to swing his halves to the sides and upwards, holding onto his newly regenerated feet with his hands. The claw plunged forward, opened up, and then halted when it met only empty space. It retracted again and jabbed forward once more, moving up and down, but it felt no flesh and started flailing. “ERROR,” blared a mechanized voice from speakers above. “NO TARGET FOUND. PROCESSING HALTED. ERROR. ERROR.” Red lights shone down from the ceiling, and the metal loops holding Spongebob snapped open. He fell through the air and landed squarely on his feet, stepping his two halves together and becoming a single sponge again. Most of the guards looked around, panicking. Three guards ran over to the control panel, trying to regain control of the machinery, while Mr. Krabs continued to scream at him from the balcony above. 

“MECHANICAL ERROR,” the voice from the ceiling continued to blare. “REPAIR REQUIRED. RELEASING PERSONNEL.”

“NO!” Mr. Krabs shouted.

The lower-level doors swung open automatically, revealing the night sky. “Come on!” Spongebob shouted to the frightened-looking crabs behind him, and dashed out of the building, the crowd close behind him. One of the guards tried to block the exit, but someone shoved him out of the way, and he shouted something to the other guards. After a moment, Spongebob heard running footsteps behind them, and didn’t bother to see who they belonged to. “We need to find somewhere to hide!” he yelled over the sound of scuttling as they turned a corner. “Go in that factory, they won’t find you!” He pointed to a nearby abandoned factory, made mostly of brick and painted a faded red. “Just run in there and hide!” 

“What if it’s locked?” asked a female crab, panting.

“Break a window! Just go!” He pushed her forward, and all the crabs dashed for the old building. Spongebob only watched them go for a second, and then turned around; he was standing right in front of another factory. ‘Perfect,’ he thought, and pushed on the metal doors. Thankfully, mercifully, they were unlocked, but the lights were off inside the building and he couldn’t see a thing. He just ducked under something that felt like a table, curled up into a ball, and finally relaxed, letting his breath out. He closed his eyes, even, and tried to straighten things out for a minute, when suddenly the doors swung open.

“Thought you could run away from me, eh, boy?” came Mr. Krabs’ voice from the doorway, and then the sound of the doors slamming shut. The lights came on, there was a scuttling sound, and Spongebob looked up to see his employer standing in front of him. Krabs reached down and grabbed his wrists, pulling him up, holding him above the floor and resisting his struggles. Spongebob’s eyes darted around for a possible escape, but other than the front doors, there was nothing. In fact, the whole factory was almost empty, save for the thing he had his back to.

“Look at you, hidin’ like a yellow-belly,” the crab spat. “And your little friends, runnin’ from their duty. We found them already, and we already know what we’re gonna do with ‘em. But you— well.” He turned Spongebob around to look at what he was standing behind; it wasn’t a table, but a horizontal conveyor belt, leading into the gaping maw of a huge, square machine, several switches and dials on its side. “Not very impressive, but this is where I used to make the secret ingredient. We made better machines and got a better factory, so we just abandoned this one. Should still be in workin’ order, though.” He flipped Spongebob onto his back and pushed him onto the conveyor belt, where four widely-spaced metal loops were attached. He jammed Spongebob’s hands and feet into them, making sure he couldn’t move, and then scuttled over to the side of the device.

“Mr. Krabs, wait!” Spongebob screamed. “What are you doing?”

“You know too much,” Mr. Krabs said matter-of-factly. “I can’t trust you. Can’t have you tellin’ everyone about my ingredient. This won’t make any secret ingredient, but it sure will keep you quiet.” He reached over and flipped a dial on the side of the machine. “Sorry, Spongebob. Wish I could’ve kept you around. You were a good fry cook, boy.” The machine rumbled to life, and after a moment the conveyor belt started with a jolt, moving forward slowly.

Spongebob could do nothing more than look forward and scream as he went into the machine and was swallowed up by the blackness.


End file.
